


Catch Me

by iwaizumicooch



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Graduation, Happy Ending, M/M, POV Oikawa Tooru, Separations, love letter to iwaoists everywhere, soulmates??, they are a little (A WHOLE FUCKIN LOT) gay for each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:55:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28721745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwaizumicooch/pseuds/iwaizumicooch
Summary: Oikawa is at the edge of a towering cliff, pushed to the edge by life, fate, and school. They shout and poke and probe with their condescending pitchforks, spears, and knives. They are taunting and confident. Oikawa has no other choice but to take a leap. He closes his eyes and plummets down toward the ragged and sharp rocks below.Catch me, Hajime.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	Catch Me

**Author's Note:**

> this is for all my iwaoists; yall are so fuckin sexy. (kisses)

It was something like this: I had a best friend, Iwaizumi Hajime, and he was sweet, he was caring, he was dependable, and he was leaving. 

We both were, really. 

Graduation and life would see it apathetically so. The road for which we had always travelled on, for which we lived life on, and for which our relationship had bloomed into one of reciprocated friendship and devouring love, was divulging onto two separate paths. Life and fate and destiny would rip us apart, savagely, just like it had graciously and generously brought us together. Where I would previously thank fate, I would now curse it and rue it and despise it. We approached a fork on the road and I didn’t know how to say goodbye. Neither of us did. For so many years we had been one and indivisible in everything we did. We were an atom, the smallest, simplest, and basic forms of life; so essential and elemental and rudimentary that we never questioned why it was we were so incessantly attracted to one another. We basked in its glory and magnificence for as long as we could, and we never asked why. It was inexplicable and unquestionable; _It is because it is,_ we would think, and we would leave it at that–what other explanation was needed?

And too like atoms, we could not be severed. In our younger years, we'd thought it impossible. An explosion would be needed, I’d have convinced myself; A great big fiery explosion: One so mighty, so cosmic, so powerful, and so herculean would have to be used in order to result in our separation, and even then, it would not suffice. Worlds would need to be obliterated, stars needed to be imploded in supernovae flashes of radiant and colorful light–one so astounding and spectacular, and the universe would have to have been destroyed and remade and destroyed and remade again for the concept of our separation to ever be made fathomable; the laws of nature itself had to be rewritten and the impossible would have to be done. I thought our togetherness and the cord for which we were tethered on was too strong, too intense, and too enduring to ever be cut. 

And somehow–stupidly, impossibly, and outrageously–, life had found a way. Life, whom I had attributed to magnanimity, benevolence, and compassion, had slashed my neck, punctured my heart, shed my tears, and left me empty. I would be desolate and bare once we departed, and so too would Hajime.

It was childish and foolish thinking back to my gullibility as a child. The chances both he and I would stay together forever were nonexistent–slim at best. But still, I hoped and hoped. Hell, I did more than hope: I believed; I, with every bone in my body and every facet of my mind, wholeheartedly believed it would always be Toru _and_ Hajime and nothing else.

Today was like any other, and I had let myself into Hajime’s home as I was bored back at home: the ruckus of my parents and chaos of planning out my future proving overwhelming. 

“Hey.” I greeted as I entered the threshold of his room. I vaulted onto his bed, the springs squeaking and mattress compressing as I did so. I ran my hands down my face tense and anxious. I let out a groan, deep and yawning. 

“Iwa.” I cried again.

He turned his head from his desk, curious and faintly worried, and laid his arm over his chair’s seat back. 

“What’s wrong.” 

“Life.” I replied back, blatant and blunt and vague.

“What about life—”

I don’t know what caused my outburst. I was angry and frustrated; I didn't know who or what to blame or even if there was something to blame. I was confused and bewildered and foolishly ignorant. I was a dam who was nearing full capacity and about to burst; I was swimming in the ocean and I was drowning, desperate, clawing and grasping for oxygen; I was bleeding profusely from every crevice of my body, holes and wounds littered all around, and I needed to be surgically repaired, healed, and rehabilitated.

I interrupted him, “You know we’re graduating soon right?”

“Yes, Oikawa. I know–”

I interrupted him again, “And you know we’ll separate, too, then.” The somberness of my voice apparent in my words. My eyes were locked in his, and I could see him trying to find the right words. 

After a moment, one of which seemed endless, he spoke. “Yes.” he started. “Yes, Oikawa. I know. I know.” His voice quiet and sad by the end, it seemed my uncertainty had found its way to the crevasses of his mind and expelled back out weak and trickling through vocalizations of sound. We grew silent again, this time with both of us attempting to piece together how to say the immense stockpile of thoughts, fears, and anxieties we had. I could see the tenseness in his eyes, the small fidgets and slight movements of his lips as he began to speak, but immediately after determining it not applicable or maybe too blunt or perhaps too personal. 

It seemed the topic of our severance had become taboo during the past few weeks and it was understandably so. We were scared and frightful: Both in the suspense and uneasiness of our futures, but also of the precariousness of us–of the fate of our friendship and the true meaning behind our decades-long fellowship. I loathed and detested the day graduation would come, and even more so the day soon after, when he would leave for college and I for mine. Our separation was a great big wretched fire, and as the date grew closer, the fire engulfed more and more, its hunger ever-growing and its blaze increasingly bright and murderous. It would destroy and obliterate, leaving in its wake the ashes, deformed and unrecognizable, of our friendship and with it any chance of it ever becoming something more. 

_More._ For so long, I had wanted more. I had wanted more meaning; I had wanted a detailed and intricate definition as to what _Toru and Hajime_ meant–what it entailed, how special and unique it was, and how much potential we had left to bloom it even further in the time remaining. 

I could feel my hands begin to shake. When was the last time both of us were so unable to speak?; when was the last time we were afraid to share our problems, our misfortunes, our mistakes? If not to let the other offer their input and advice in hopes of solving the problem, then just to vent?

I couldn’t take it anymore; I excused myself to the bathroom. It was not a good lie: it was unoriginal, shaky, and simple; a toddler could have seen through it; it was laughable, and I was certain Iwaizumi had acknowledged it as such. But either way, he let me leave.

In the bathroom, I stood in the mirror, expressionless and emotionless. I raised a hand to my face. For what? I don’t particularly know. Perhaps to wake up my lifeless face, to bring back the jollity and giddiness it was known for, or possibly in attempt to stimulate an emotion. Sadness? Happiness? Joy? Despair? Contentment? Misery? Calmness? Turmoil? I wanted something–anything–to remind myself of the magnitude and imminence of the current situation–at how close I was to losing him. I was shocked at the calmness, the stillness of myself: I had so much going on; I had mountains upon mountains of worries and regrets, and yet, my face offered no such indication.

I thought back to Iwaizumi and wondered, _had he been having the same worries I had?; has the same dreadful scenarios been playing repeatedly in his head, non-stop and ceaseless, unrelenting and cruel?_ He must have. He valued my friendship as much as I valued his. He knew of our inescapable separation: that obligations and attachments to life, careers, future, and fate would bring us apart like it had brought us together. No longer would I have a pillar to lean on, an ear to vent to, a companion to laugh with, nor a person to cry to. I would be stripped bare. I was a house and Iwaizumi were my walls, my support, and my safety. And once he was gone, I would be left homeless and barren and empty. All of my worthwhile possessions, wants, desires, and sources of joy, pleasure, and stability would depart when Hajime did, leaving with him to wherever life would deem him bitterly better suited. 

My mind then wandered from thoughts agonizing over the future to regrets I had accumulated the years prior–the things I never did and the things I will never get to do. The kisses I will never have, the touches I will never feel, the pleasures I will never partake in, the joy of having what so little have; all of it, gone, wasted, and dashed–now only far-off fantasies and dreams and what-ifs. 

I wanted to cry and cry and scream and scream; _why had I never talked about it? Why was I so scared? I could have been so happy, so why, why, why, why?_ I hated myself for it: my lack of conviction, my anxiety, my foreboding, my helplessness–it all could have been so much different, so much more happier for me. I wouldn’t have cared if it was short-lived, I wanted it nevertheless 

I felt nothing then; I then imagined my future self feeling nothing and began to dread my life as an adult even more so than I did now. Tears began to fall and snot amassed in my nasal cavities; I thought of Iwaizumi working on his college applications, oblivious to my breakdown in his bathroom, and began to cry even harder. For a split second, in between watery eyes and desperate sniffles, I looked up at myself in the mirror. _Ah, finally_. I thought. 

It was short, the dancing of my tears and the watery sparkle in my eyes, and I soon after collected myself. I blew my nose and dried my tears; I removed any evidence of my weeping as best as I could. I thought of flushing the toilet in order to keep up the facade that was my excuse, but _no,_ I thought; there was no point, he had already seen through my lie. I exited.

I appeared back at the entrance to his room. He was no longer at his desk and was instead sitting upright on his bed. 

I stood there, silent and observing. 

“Hi.” he prompted, regarding me at the door.

I entered the room and tried my best to seem my normal self–the Oikawa who was lighthearted, teasing, and unenumerated with the woes of human responsibility.

“Can we watch something?”

“Yeah, let’s watch something.” 

…

Later that week, Hajime had offered me to spend the night with him, and I agreed. Knowing the thoughts contemplated and the regrets pondered prior, I promised myself that I’d spend as much time with him as I could, preserving and lengthening the short amount of time I had left. Every waking hour, minute, and second, I wanted to spend it in his presence; I wanted to reminisce over past memories and make new ones before it was too late; I wanted to engrain his face, his features, his smile, his laugh, and his personality in my brain before the cursed tides of age, distance, and life would wash him away. I feared, while admittedly unexplainably and unchanging, that every single departure would be our last–even if we still had months till graduation. 

I had a slight whisper of Hajime’s suspicion of my intent with my repeated visits to his house, my efforts—successful or not—to prolong our time together at school, and my repeated and incessant suggestions to go out. He always humbled me; he knew of my desperation, and was at times aching himself to live out the few months we had to their fullest. It soon became an unspoken pact between us. Night or day, we were together; in school or out of school, we were together; busy or not busy, we were together. It’s funny how the end, the preordained dissolution of our relationship, had brought us so close together, so tight-nit, and so inseparable. It was a blessing and a curse.

And later that night, as I lay in bed next to him, the formality of separate beds or cots or mattresses improper for how far our relationship has progressed, I found myself inexplicably and unconsciously staring, perceptive and thinking, at Iwaizumi. His features: his spiky hair and his defined face—all of him, so serene and peacefully asleep. I rarely slept during nights with him–I was too afraid to. I never wanted to take my eyes off him; I never wanted to leave him. 

Those nights, I found myself having the same inner monologue I had that day in the bathroom; the deafening silence plaguing the room and my close proximity to him making my mind naturally stray towards thoughts of Iwaizumi. 

I would ask myself questions and conjure up scenarios: _what if I confessed? Does Hajime feel the same way about me? Would it be worth it now? Is it too late? Would I just hurt more? Could we be something more–would we have been something more if I wasn’t so cowardly?_

“Hajime?” I would ask late into the night with close to no chance of him being awake, but still, I asked. I don’t know why I asked, it was impromptu; it was unplanned and thoughtless. I don’t know what I even wanted Hajime to answer with. If he had answered, what would I do? I knew myself too scared, frightful, and anxious to ever confess in the daytime—nor at any time of day for that matter, but maybe, somewhere in my subconscious, I had a small, insignificant but influential part that hoped that the intensity of the moment, the darkness of the room burying Hajime’s face in a flurry of black, and the ferocious longing in my heart would subvert all which that before prevented me from frolicking on the greener grass on the other side.

Usually, after a moment of silence, unbreaking and deafening, I would close my eyes and hopelessly attempt to fall asleep.

But this night, that would not happen. In the silence where time froze; he was awake and replied back, just barely discernible, with a faint whisper.

“Yes, Toru?”

My heart began to race, my mind jolted awake, my breath strained and tensed, I felt a lump in my throat, and my chest began to pound. _What was I doing?_ It felt as if I had been struck by a train, my still body on the bed mirroring that of a lifeless corpse. I was dead but alive; I was quiet but blaring and booming and thunderous; I was empty of anything to say but was chalk-full of emotion, tension, and fiery passion. 

I lay with Iwaizumi’s back to my right, wide-eyed and unblinking toward the ceiling. 

“Why did we never try?” 

It was a trance; I was in a hazy whirl of zeal and vigor. As I stayed staring to the ceiling, perceptive and sensitive to every noise in the room, I heard the ruffling of the bedsheets next to me and could only guess that Iwaizumi had shifted positions to face me in this mountain of darkness. And though we lay blind to each other, we saw it all. We saw on our faces the uncertainty of our trembling lips, the anxiety of our prescribed separation, the regrets of our assured failures and lost chances, the tears sure to be shed forgone from one another, and the depravity prevalent on our expressionless expressions as we pictured our adult selves possessionless and vain, forced to continue on without the crutch we had before leaned so dependently on.

I turned to face him and stared at his eyes silhouetted in the moonlight, deep-seated, fervent, and impassioned, the distinct features of his face just barely recognizable. It came to me then, as if reflexive and thoughtless, and all began to unravel; I began to speak.

“I love you. You know that right?; more than I have ever loved anyone. I love you so much, Hajime. I want to kiss you so bad. Ever since we were kids, I always have, and I have been so madly and viscously in love with you; it hurts; it hurts _so much._ You are so special and unique and important to me that life without you would be unbearable. The mere fact of us separating has torn me apart. I don’t know if you feel the same way I do–I hope you do, but I need to tell you this. I need to tell you how I feel because I couldn’t live with myself if I hadn’t at least tried. Being with you Hajime, has made me the happiest person in the world, but I know it–I want it to be more. I don’t know why I haven’t told you earlier, I was too scared to, I guess, but it was stupid of me; I wasted so much time and because of it, I have lived regretful and fractured; Hajime, it’s been ripping me apart and I hate myself for it. And now–look at us–, graduation is in a few months, and then you and I will be gone, detached and uncoupled to wherever our future takes us. But, I don’t want a future away from you. Hajime, I want _you_ to be my future. And though we will always stay best friends, it won’t be the same–it never will. But until then, until the inevitable happens, I want to spend whatever time I have left with you truthfully and fully–more genuine and forthright than I ever have been with anyone my entire life. I can’t bear these nights: the space between us, the skepticism, the regrets, us: who we are, what we will be, what we could and can be–all of it. It makes me so indecisive and detached from myself, and I know you’ve been noticing it too, but it’s because of you, Hajime. Every thought it seems–it seems to be about you.”

I turned away from him and put my palms on top of my face trying to sheathe the bright flashes of red flustered about on my cheeks. And even though the dim moonlight was nowhere near enough to give away my embarrassment to Iwaizumi, I was sure he knew of it. A big wave of regret soon poured over me.

“Hajime… I’m sorry, I should have never–” He grabbed the back of my head, abrupt and without warning, with his hands wrapped around my strands of brown hair, and with startling tenacity, he pushed our faces together until our lips met, melancholic and profound. My eyes were dilated and beckoning; I could feel the moisture of Iwaizumi’s lips seep into mine, dry and chapped from my bout of prolonged rigmaroles and unplanned monologue; I could feel the intensity and ardent passion and longing, the kiss so deep and full and rich that it was almost sad; I could feel how long he had been waiting–how long we had been waiting–for this one moment, our years and years of longing and yearning and aching and fasting, all of it coming undone through this one kiss. 

I didn’t breathe in that moment, I didn’t need to. Iwaizumi was my life then–my blood, strength, confidence, oxygen, passion, and vivacity. It was just like always, but so much more meaningful. He was kissing me; he was comforting me; he was accepting me; he was not leaving me, he was getting closer–closer than any of us have ever been; he was loving me and I was loving him. 

I started to cry then. I had missed out on so much. 

We pulled away then, the salty tears now streaming down my face and cheeks and seeping into the bedsheets. Hajime put a hand on my cheek, gentle, calm, and intimate. He wiped away a slow-falling droplet and through my fuzzy and hazy vision, I could see him smile, the curve of his lips, and the dimples present at the end of his grin beaming: it was beautiful and warm and wonderfully kind. 

“Don’t cry, stupid.”

“Oh, shut up, Hajime.” 

I threw my head into his chest, still weeping, and took him all in. He welcomed my embrace and I could feel his heartbeat, it being so astonishingly calm and consistent and strong. I relished in his warmth, in his security, and in his ruggedness; I basked in the tranquility, serenity, and peacefulness of the moment. 

The way I fit in the nook of his chest, perfect and comfortable, seemed unnatural and unreal, it was as if fate had ordained us to be together after all. As I lay, his hands were stroking the back of my head and his chin was carefully rested atop my head as tears still ran down like a waterfall, relentless and unstopping, but also beautiful, heavenly, divine, and hypnotizing. His hand brushing and massaging my head was solaceful and caring; his chin planted on my head was endearing, enchanting, and offered me a source of security, of safety, of assurance. 

And though our graduation still loomed, it was less so in that moment. The vultures overhead were no longer vultures and the desert surrounding us and imprisoning us was no longer a desert. I felt free in that moment: free of regret, of fear, of anxiety, and of the future; I was a dog in an endless stretch of grassy land and tennis balls; I was a runner with an infinite stamina who ran and ran and ran; I was a poor man who had all he could ask for; I was an undying star beaming radiance and happiness and jollity; I was a lover with another lover–someone who I cared so deeply and entirely for; someone who I endlessly adored and cherished; someone for whom I would walk the ends of the Earth with; someone whom I would die for; someone for whom I could love and never have the fear of ever losing that love. 

In the alcove I had created for myself, his shirt now soaked with my tears, I smiled sincere and wholehearted. I knew then, of the extent and capacity of our love. It was staggering and confounding; I felt as if the world were at our feet, their wills and actions and thoughts bound to us and serving us: they could not hurt us. We were the waves Moses had separated in the Red Sea, our division only temporary and the act of seeing it done god-like and impossibly human. We would flow again entwined, our insides intermittent as one, flowing back and forth like fish, remarkably full of life and vigor and energy. 

As a child, I had been right: absolutely nothing could break us. _Us:_ the memories we shared, the experiences we went through, and the sheer kindhearted and contented and indestructible bond we had meticulously crafted over the years–all of it was everlasting, permanent, infinite, unending, immortal, and inextinguishable to anything the world had to throw at us. We were two pieces of shining and lustrous precious metals who were forged in the fiery flames of love as the rest of the world watched in amazement and admiration. They gazed and gossiped and were jealous and envious, their lowly whispers yet even more evidence of the righteousness of what we had and the perfection we had unknowingly achieved. 

And though we may be separated, we would eventually be strewn back together; we both knew of it. Would it be fate? Destiny? God? Or simply our own decisions and actions that would reassemble us? We did not know nor did we care, for we knew it was certain. No matter the method or process, what we had was unique and one-of-a-kind, and nowhere else in the world would this degree of love be found nor replicated. It was our own little corner of the world and it was stunning and beautiful and awe-inspiring. We held in our hands our own futures and were confident in the outcome. 

Our separation would be temporary, we would promise that to ourselves. We would reunite, no matter the distance and we would be together again. 

I stopped crying then and removed myself from Iwaizumi’s chest. I laid, eyes and face and cheeks still scarred with remnants of tears, eye-to-eye with him. I held in my hands his face and my face in his. 

“Hajime, _promise me._ Promise me that no matter where we end up, we’ll be together again–that we can do what we were too stupid to do when we were teenagers.”

He grasped at me then and pulled me into an all-encompassing embrace, passionate and ardent. I felt his head rest on the side of my neck, forceful and loving, and his arms wrap themselves around me, sincere and expressive and eloquent; I felt his deep and satisfied breaths exit his nose and slightly graze the hairs on my neck; I felt his arms squeeze tight and never let go.

“I promise, Toru. I promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> And... there it is! My first fic! I hope you liked it! If you did, then giving kudos would be greatly appreciated, thank you! :)
> 
> Also, if you want, you can find me on twitter @IwaizumiCooch


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